


Friday is here

by blackcrystaly



Series: Holmes' Heart [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Character Study, Developing Relationship, M/M, Sherlock cares about Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-09
Updated: 2013-01-10
Packaged: 2017-11-24 07:23:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/631891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackcrystaly/pseuds/blackcrystaly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Finally, thanks to Mycroft's influences, Greg is a divorced man. Now, the older Holmes just has to make it through the day so they can finally have their much anticipated night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Day is about work, teasing and Sherlock

**Author's Note:**

> I want to thank Leah_Ester for being a wonderful beta!

Friday came, as ever, after Thursday. But this time Mycroft was looking forward to it. He had a date tonight and he hoped it would be, well, a hot one.

Gregory had been tempting him far too much during the last three days, from the very moment he had met the man. With his heated looks, his soft looking silver hair, his demanding mouth and all those little, dark, promises he had made…

He wondered briefly if maybe he was reading too much into the issue. The detective inspector could just want to have some no-strings-attached sex with him; that was a possibility that had to be taken into account. The man had been deprived recently due to losing his wife’s affections, after all. Even if Gregory didn't strike the older Holmes as one to use someone just to sate his lust, he couldn’t help but analyze the chances of that scenario.

Still, it didn’t deter him in the least. He was used to much more complex situations and he was convinced that, if the case presented itself, he could take it from there and make the man realize that was so much more between them than just physical desire. Yes, he definitely could make the other love him. He wasn’t used to failing anymore, not if he could help it. And he wasn’t about to begin now when there was so much at stake. He wasn’t going to lose his heart now that he had found it. He wasn’t letting it go graciously. Mummy had taught him better.

It had a lot to do with some poorly based decisions he had made all those years ago, when he was just beginning the road to becoming the man he was today. Somehow, the stories about his dalliances with yet another member of MI5 had reached her ears and merited a well-remembered talk between them.

*****

“You have to stop forcing the issue, Mycroft,” she told him, with that strange softness that was only used when speaking with her sons. “It’s not benefitting you, or your work.”

Those words had stung a bit, because it was obvious she was talking about the little affair that almost cost him an international scandal and his career.

He had been so convinced at the time that the other man was his so–intensely–looked–for heart he had refused to properly study his intentions at befriending first and then dating him. Mycroft had eventually let the other know some very confidential facts about a very public person who was about to visit the country. And the not–so–loyal agent had used that information to plan a high staked crime with some equally daring friends of his. If it hadn’t been for his parents, and his little brother, the whole thing would have been his downfall.

He blushed. Having to be lectured by his own mother on the issue was the worst of it. Even more so than finding out about the whole scheme from Sherlock; who for once had been sympathetic rather than annoyed at him for his carelessness in his almost obsessive search. Maybe things had gone too far if his little brother had come to speak with him about the issue.

“ _Please_ Mycroft,” the brunette had said looking at him softly. “Stop this nonsense of yours before every lowlife around decides to pretend to be your heart so they can get some state secrets or something out of you… it’s _infuriating_ ,” he had added before giving his brother a squeeze on the shoulder and leaving him alone in his big house to deal with the blow.

“ _Mycroft…_ ” The way his mother said his name brought him back to reality.

Sometimes a Holmes had to use one another's name to bring them out of their mind, to force one to focus on the matter at hand and she was doing that right there and then. He smiled to Mummy, letting her know he was paying attention once again.

“Just because _I_ found your father in the Service doesn’t mean that _your_ heart will be in the same place.”

He was aware of that, of course but it still pained him. What could he have in common with someone from the outside? With one of the _sheep_?

She smiled at him, as if knowing what he was thinking.

“It will come to you, dear, I’m sure of that.” Once more, her voice had gone a little secretive, and she addressed his secret fear with ease. “And it will make you better, stronger, because he'll bring a whole new knowledge to your life, dear, being different from you. Even the ones out there that are only mildly interesting sometimes; they can understand things we do not. Sometimes they'll even surprise you with their insights..." She stopped for a second there, her own eyes showing the light they always got when thinking of her husband. Mycroft looked at her intensely, waiting for her to continue. And noticing the look, she smiled and continued addressing the issue that had to be dealt with. "That person _will not use you nor let you use him_." Now her tone was stronger, marking the words for her child to remember.

Then she took the cup of tea and brought it once more to her lips, taking a little sip, before saying looking back her oldest child.

"It won’t be an easy road either, my dear. You’ll have to fight for your heart, most of all, with yourself now that you have been burned.”

*****

Mycroft had nodded slowly to her words. But as time passed without a sign of his heart, something inside had withered and he had let it perish, or so he thought. And now this man, this detective inspector, had come into his life and forced him to revive all the hope he had thought was best kept stored far enough away so as to not compromise his position again.

Moreover, Gregory was setting him to action at once! They had just met and he was already doing things for the man! Nothing had been easier to decide than sending those movers to the man’s former house to take his things to the new flat Lestrade has rented. Mycroft’s decision had been born from the fact that he hated the idea of Gregory being near that woman, who had claimed him first, a minute more than strictly necessary. He had paid for the solicitor that Anthea had recommended from his own money, since he wouldn't risk anyone objecting by using public money. And had even exerted his influence without a second thought to ensure the divorce came through and would be done in forty-eight hours which, since the thing was pretty much undisputed, had been slightly easier to accomplish. It gave a whole new meaning to “speed proceedings”. And he hadn't given as much as a backward glance. He simply knew he had to make sure this man was free to be _his_.

He now understood Mummy when she had said that a Holmes’ heart tended to be a disrupting force in their well planned lives and to create havoc in their work. The detective inspector had been sending him the most delicious yet completely inappropriate messages to his mobile phone while he was still on the clock. But since that was pretty much always, he couldn’t quite call the other on it. And he wasn't sure if he would want him to even if he was able to. There was something strangely delicious about having someone lavish him with attention. Telling him all those little naughty things, making him twitch with the anticipation of what would be said next...

The latest text from the man had just come through and it had made Mycroft go a little red.

**Will you let me strip that well fitted suit off your sexy body, Ginger Fox? GL**

That day had begun exchanging messages from the moment the detective inspector had been notified of the court’s resolution. The silver haired man had somehow known that he had done something to ensure the outcome and had wrote him a thank you with a question, once more, to confirm their dinner date that same night. It was pretty evident that Gregory was expecting him to back down at the last moment, which if he was honest with himself, and Mycroft always was, he had been tempted to do at least once. He had talked himself out of it, forcing himself to remember the hurt he’d suffered in the past. The many ways that other men had used and abused him, had forced him to give too much, too soon or how they had proven to be less than honest.

The memory of the parting words of the last man he had been in bed with still resonated in his ears. They had been bad enough to make him stop trying to have any kind of involvement with another human being. In his rage he had told the taller haired man that apart from being a real bastard he wasn't even a decent lay.

“You are a _control freak_! You won’t even allow a kiss if you don’t decide it’s time or whatever! You won't even share your work with me and we do have jobs at the same place. But no, I can't even go and have _lunch_ with you because there is always something _urgent_ coming up your way! And you send you bloody PA to tell me! Don't even bother to text me yourself! Just who the hell you think you are?!” had accused his now ex-lover, out of his mind. “And you are not even a wonder in bed… I’m done with you Mycroft Holmes!” He had almost spit his name before crossing the threshold of Mycroft’s house never to return.

Those venomous statements had stayed with him for almost four years now, coming back to haunt him every time he attempted to indulge in a little affair. He didn't want to hear them ever again from anyone. But he knew it was somewhat inevitable since he couldn't quite trust people with what he did, who he was in its entirety, so it was bound to happen again. And he was not the kind of man who would expose himself to unnecessary damage. As a result he hadn’t touched or been touched by anyone in all that time.

Gregory had done the impossible. He had been able to quiet the voice in Mycroft’s mind that kept harping on him. And they had already kissed very heatedly, if he was the one to judge. Moreover, they had shared some orgasms due to the detective inspector’s unrelenting sensual assault on him. The man had made him come twice, one using his voice and the other writing sexy messages all the way to completion. Both times it had left him wanting more… needing to feel the hands of the man, to hear the voice directly in his ear, filling him with anticipation.

Lestrade didn’t seem care to about his work schedule. That Anthea often carried a lot of things out for him. Or his need to always be solving problems, to have a hand in how they were fixed, how fast or how long they would go on. Maybe it was because Gregory’s own job had no hours, he dedicated his life to solve puzzles just like his brother Sherlock and seemed well attuned to the Holmes way of doing things.

Anyways, the man had woken up his dazed lust with no apparent effort and kept on making his body squirm at every chance he had. It was almost like Gregory enjoyed bringing out his… less than civil side.

He thought briefly of a good response while keeping an eye on a very secret conference he was monitoring on several cameras at once, waiting for the people being watched to make a mistake that they could be held accountable for.

**I have not decided, yet. Maybe, if you are well behaved during dinner, Gregory. MH**

Of course he would let the man slip him out of his very expensive clothes, he had every intention of that, but there was no need for the man to know it before time. A little uncertainty would be good for the other man. He didn't like feeling like a sure thing after all. Plus, he really wanted to see how the man would react to his banter.

He smiled to himself while the two women and the man sat in an office not far from his own, to strike a deal over some very pricey bonds and make themselves, were the tape turned over to the correct authorities, liable to criminal prosecution. Without a word, he texted his PA to let her know that it was time to take them down.

He opened the next incoming message without looking at the sender since he was expecting confirmation that things were finished. He shouldn’t have done that.

**I’d have thought you preferred me bad behaved, Ginger Fox. GL**

The text made him gulp, audibly. Thanks to the powers that be that he was alone. He could feel a sudden heat in his cheeks. He breathed slowly, trying to control himself. This man would be the end of him. He would go not of old age but of shame and want. The words alone built several, very sexual scenarios, in his head. He would not let his body go unattended for so long again, he decided suddenly, even if he had to... well, pay for that service. Though he hoped that now with Lestrade in his life it wouldn't be a problem.

It was obvious, he decided, that self imposed celibacy made him hyperaware and that it couldn't be allowed to continue. There was an operation in progress. Soon Anthea would be back to debrief him and he had to get a hold of himself if he didn’t want her to see him sporting a hard on! He was not a teenager anymore; he had to get hold of himself!

**Stop at once, Detective Inspector. This is not the time to do that. MH**

He thought that maybe using the other’s police rank would give him the clue that he was being serious and not merely teasing. But, he remembered, he had tried it before and the result had been less than satisfactory. Lestrade was the kind of person who would respect him if he was working. But he had to let the man know in no uncertain terms that was the case or he would have another miscommunication episode on his hands quicker than he would prefer. So he went on clarifying.

**I’m at work. Save that wicked tongue and words for tonight. MH**

He hit the “send” button before having time to regret it. A response came almost immediately.

**Just for you, Ginger Fox. Don’t start any wars you can’t finish by dinner. GL**

The words were so much like Sherlock’s Mycroft was tempted to ask him exactly what he had been telling to the silver haired man, but he refrained from doing so. Not because his sibling wouldn’t tell him, but because he was not so sure he wanted to know. It was obvious that the brunette thought highly of the detective inspector if Sherlock was speaking to him about his family. And maybe, just maybe, giving away all that information about his older brother was Sherlock’s roundabout way to let Mycroft know that he approved, that he knew what Mycroft had found out that first day in the warehouse. That this man was his heart.

While he was lost in thought his phone vibrated again. He had two texts waiting to be read. The first one came from his PA and it was a simply “mission accomplished” while the other was from the man he had been reflecting on.

**Don’t be an idiot. Don’t let him go. SH**

He smiled to himself. The younger Holmes had grown up to be a man who still cared about his sibling, even if he pretended not to half of the time, as per their agreement. Back then it had been the best way to ensure his safety, somehow, since he insisted on being out in the world. He’d have liked it better if their parents had taken his side on the matter and prevented Sherlock from going out on his own. But they had told him that he needed to let the brunette go and live his life.

“But he’ll be in danger!” Mycroft had protested whole-heartedly.

His father had given him one of his most sympathetic smiles, ruffled his hair as if he still was a little child and explained to him that Sherlock needed to be free, to experience life in a way he and his mother wouldn’t ever comprehend.

“He is like a bird; if you cage it he will still sing but won’t ever be happy.”

Mycroft had known that his father was right. Still, he didn’t like it, not one bit.

“He could come with Mummy and me to the Secret Service…” he proposed, trying to find a way for the brunette to have what he wanted and still be protected.

“He’ll never be able to survive in the Service, my dear. Your brother is too much of a solo player for that.” Now, it was his mother who spoke with that matter–of–fact tone of hers.

“Sherlock could travel and see all the things he wants while being useful to his country,” he pressed on, not ready to give in just yet. Surely, their parents could see he was the one with the best plan there.

Mummy smiled softly, and shook his head.

“Your brother could never be a spy, my dear,” she said and he knew that was it, he could not make her change her mind.

“You need to let him go, Mycroft, just like we did when you began working for the new MI6,” his dad said while going to serve him a drink.

He nodded and took the proffered glass. While he drank the scotch he remembered that their parents had been only half thrilled that he had wanted to walk in their steps, and now he understood why a little better.

And so, his sibling had gone on to live on Baker Street, unsupervised, unguarded, and very much free to put his precious life on the line on a daily basis. He had already picked up a horrible habit of drug use when boredom was a little too much for his mind to deal with it, so it only made Mycroft even more wary of the situation.

Mycroft had at least convinced his mother to let him put some very unobtrusive cameras in the flat so he could monitor Sherlock and prevent him from overdosing. Or save him if things went from bad to worse and his crime solving finally led to someone trying to kill him.

Mummy had smiled knowingly, reminded him that both her sons knew several techniques of self-defense and signed the papers to allow him to do as he pleased. Some days, he suspected she did it only because she had done the same to his own home years ago. But to this day, if there was some kind of surveillance there he had not been able to find it.

Moreover, he suspected that Sherlock was perfectly aware of him being recorded. Yet, he had never done anything to remove the devices. Maybe their parents talked him out of it. Maybe he understood how useful it was. Or maybe he didn’t care anyway and he knew it let Mycroft sleep a little easier if those were in the flat.

**I’m not going to. MH**

His brother would, of course, read all the unwritten things those words meant. They weren’t family for nothing.

A second later another text came and its content made him twist and turn uncomfortably.

**Good. Because he’s it, Mycroft. He is your heart. SH**

So, he did know, thought the older Holmes. Whatever had prompted Sherlock to send that message it was obvious that his brother thought it necessary to point it out to him. Perhaps he thought Mycroft had become too detached to notice? Or that he had really stopped looking after the last time when Sherlock had to intervene?

The older Holmes knew he had to reassure his sibling that he was indeed very much aware of the other man’s significance.

**I know, Sherlock. MH**

The answer didn’t take long.

**You’re welcome, by the way. SH**

That made him laugh, an honest one at that. Leave it to the brunette to ease the tension by acting like a spoiled brat. He so loved him, poor manners and all!

**Thank you, Sherlock. MH**

He texted back courteously, knowing that the other would know exactly the tone it had to be read in.

**That’s better. So, tonight? SH**

It was evident that the two most important men in his life talked to one another. It made him a little happier, since he knew there was no way he could be with someone, in a serious manner, who didn’t care for or accept his younger brother.

The fact that the both of them worked together and shared a certain intimacy reinforced the idea that he had to keep Gregory. It was so rare and precious, a person who could see the consulting detective for who he really was and appreciates him for it. Moreover, Lestrade had let Mycroft know that he was protective of Sherlock. And, he had found out recently, had been the one sending all those officers who mistreated Sherlock to mandatory courses. That had won him several points.

**Yes, tonight. Now, if you’d excuse me, some of us have actual work to do. MH**

He really had to. Anthea was politely knocking on the door of his office and he wanted to finish things early enough to prepare his house, and himself, for his date.

“Come inside, my dear,” he called softly, having regained control of his senses since beginning to text with his brother.

The woman entered with sure steps. He gestured for her to take a seat and she began to debrief him on the outcome of the recent operation she had been sent to command. One day, Mycroft would have to let her go. She was just too good to be struck as a PA for the rest of her life, he thought. But he wasn’t ready yet. Still, the time was growing close.

His phone vibrated twice, so he had to stop her to check it.

**Don’t start any wars then. SH**

**We still have to work together on Monday, so let him get some sleep… eventually. Be safe. SH**

The first message made the side of his lip twitch. They would never let him live that down… It has only been that time, for Christ’s sake!

The other… well it made him feel a little warmth inside. It was so like his brother to try and hide his concern just to show it all the more clearly in the end.

He smiled to himself, put the cell away and went back to the matter at hand.

“You were saying, my dear?”


	2. Night is about dinner, sex and... proposals?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finally, it's Friday afternoon and there is a dinner to be had.

The rest of Mycroft's day had been a little more hectic than he had predicted. But after solving a little conundrum between an English ambassador, a money lender and a certain not–so–unknown journalist who was about to publish the whole story, he was finally free to go and prepare for his much awaited date.

He had given strict instructions to Anthea about a mission they were managing with the CIA on the other side of the Atlantic and let her know that he wasn’t to be called unless it was an emergency. She was aware enough of the whole situation to not need any more than a few, well chosen, words. The woman had simply nodded, wished him good luck with a gentle smile and went back to typing on her PDA. He had never regretted giving her the device. She had made good use of it, helping to improve the technology by giving suggestions on much needed updates.

After some last minute calls and consultations that he had to answer, the older Holmes could finally close his many computers, lock his bureau and leave the office—for the very first time in many, many years—before seven in the evening. And for the first time, in what seemed like his entire adult life, he didn’t go to the Diogenes Club.

If Gregory was to come to his house he had to make sure it was well prepared for such an occasion. He had never brought any of his dalliances there, not even the ones he had been convinced could be his heart. Now, in retrospect he decided that was an important enough fact that should have told him something. He didn’t trust them enough to bring them back to his actual house, preferring to use some of the other places he had around the city. He had told himself back then that it was because he wanted the chance to actually know the person before trusting him in his most sacred place but with the detective inspector, he wanted nothing more than to bring him _home_.

Mycroft breathed deeply and wondered at the fact that he was doing this. He was actually giving himself to another man so completely that he wasn’t sure he could take it if the silver haired one proved not to be his heart after all. He kept his posture tight until the ride finished and he had to actually force himself to step down, walk to his door and go inside.

He was trembling, he could tell.

He was _terrified_.

Briefly, he thought of Mummy and what she had told him all those times about how absolutely paralyzing it was to find that another person had so much _power_ over them.

*****

“I was absolutely _horrified_ at the fact that he could simply get me to do things I’d never even considered before… I even called back a running operation because I knew that I’d lose him if I let him go there…” she had confided to him one day not a week after the funeral of his father.

Mycroft had gone to her side by the window and both of them stayed there, looking outside, at a younger Sherlock who was so completely taken aback by the sudden death of his parent. He had started developing his almost morbid fascination with cadavers and death then. The older brother suspected he was still trying to find an explanation to the departure of such a well–loved man.

His mother had kept on talking, slowly, trying not to cry again over the loss.

“He was _livid_ at me at the time…” she told him with a smile on his face. “Such a spirit he had… just like Sherlock’s. He takes after him. We won’t ever be able to make them understand some of the things we have to do for the country, my dear,” now she was speaking directly to him, trying to tie herself to the present, and find some solace in her children being there for her.

“Yet we love them,” he said with a small smile.

“Of course we do, they can bring out the best in us,” Mummy said with her easy confidence. “He made me human, scared me half to death, sent me into fits of rage I never thought possible. He disrupted my work, made me second guess myself once and again, laid me bare... and made me stronger, sharper, than I had ever thought of being because I had to protect him, keep him alive, at my side... He was my heart all along.” A solitary tear escaped her eyes and Mycroft new better than to offer her a handkerchief.

She turned around and looked at him then, studied him for a little while before speaking again, all the agony gone from her voice.

“You have to find yours, my dear. The love you have for him, the love I have for my youngest son, isn’t the same as the love you can share with your heart. It’s different; it’s edgier, much more powerful and even physical. Don’t mistake one for the other. Don’t let yourself become so detached from the rest of the world that your heart can’t find you, my dear.”

*****

And he, once again, had to accept that his mother’s words had been true and certain. He still felt the same need to protect Sherlock he had always felt, but now he had another person to take care of. And the feelings Gregory brought to his mind and his body were very much unlike those that his little brother provoked. The brunette brought out the older sibling, the protector in him. The silver haired man woke up his most base instincts. His desire to conquer, to possess and the need to keep the man as near him as he could.

He found himself quietly closing some doors to rooms he didn’t want the other to find, hiding away some files he knew better than to leave out, making sure that most of his computers were locked and finally turning over anything not nailed down to check that everything was spotless.

Then he made a quick detour by the kitchen to look in the fridge and decide on what he would prepare for the night. He actually enjoyed cooking, unlike his rebellious little brother who seemed to able to live on takeout when he ate at all. Some days he was tempted to send the other man several boxes with homemade food, since Sherlock had always enjoyed tasting what the older Holmes prepared. Back then, when they were a lot younger, his cooking was the only kind that could make Sherlock actually stop his senseless self–imposed starving. He protested every time, yelling that it was not fair that Mycroft compromised his mental process like that. But, when Mycroft actually threatened to throw away the things he had made the other would swiftly pick up the plate and disappear into the dinning room where he devoured everything with an eagerness that always made Mycroft think of a puppy.

Maybe tomorrow or Monday morning—if things went as well as he was expecting—he’d send the consulting detective his favorite dessert as a real ‘thank you’ for introducing him to Gregory. Having decided on that and putting away the ingredients he needed for Sherlock’s treat, he went back to studying his supplies.

He had to make something that wasn’t too heavy for either of them but was still tasty and would give them strength enough not to pass out from exhaustion. He wanted to prepare something that could be eaten quickly enough for them to engage in their promised activities. Mycroft didn’t like to think that he was too far gone but truth was he was actually anticipating more the after-dinner date than the “dinner date” part of their encounter. The older Holmes bit his lip to try and ground himself.

Dessert would be some expensive chocolates he had received from a very exclusive _chocolatier_ who owed his brother a big enough debt to provide the whole Holmes household with his masterpieces, so that was covered. He still had to decide on the entrée.

He looked around once more and decided on a simple prawn cocktail with smoky mayonnaise and some oysters that an old acquaintance had sent to him. They would be perfect and that certainly made for a sexy, romantic dinner. He had a white wine that was perfect for the meal and he was certain that the Detective Inspector would appreciate a fine beverage on their first date.

Now, having solved the dinner question he had to begin the cooking process which would certainly take some time. He liked to experiment in the kitchen, something that was quite a family trait, even if his experiments were a lot less messy than what his brother could come up with. He had never been able to kick that habit, no matter how little time he had on his hands.

His mobile sounded somewhere at his back. He washed his hands feeling truly accomplished at having almost finished with his task, dried them and went to read the message. There were two of them. The first one came from his chauffeur to let him know he had picked up the detective inspector. He gave the man a courtesy reply and then looked at the other.

**On my way to you. GL**

The words made him shiver with anxiety. He had to stop fooling himself into believing he had any control over this. The man could almost single handily disarm him. All Gregory had to do was say a few words and he was panting before he knew it.

He didn’t really know how to answer that. In the end he decided on a very vague reply.

**Yes, you are. MH**

Of course, the man didn’t know he was heading directly to Mycroft’s home, and he was waiting to see Gregory’s reaction. That reminded him that he had to clean up all of the things he had used and then go take a shower and change into… how had Gregory put it? A well fitted suit so the man could accomplish his fantasy of stripping it off him. He was actually looking forward to that part and so was his body.

 

The minutes never passed more slowly, not even when he’d had to wait in his office for two and a half hours for a call from the Prime Minister. He’d wanted a consultation before signing an act he was being urged to pass by several members of his party. Mycroft knew, of course, that objectively speaking time always passed at the same rate, and that the detective inspector was only ten minutes away. Still, he was already dressed, the table was already set, wine was chilled and ready to be opened and served. He had even gone as far as putting a candle on the table, but at the last moment he had decided against lighting it… maybe it was getting too cliché? But he hadn’t taken it off either.

At last the man arrived, all proper albeit a little informal looking. A blue shirt with the first two buttons undone, black trousers and dark colored shoes, his long coat in one hand and seemingly surprised at being inside the old house. It was obvious he had been expecting to be taken out for dinner, and Mycroft felt a little bit better at having the upper hand for once.

The man didn't seem disappointed in the least, which helped to put the other at ease. The older Holmes smiled, adopting an open posture, to let the silver haired man decide how he would greet him. Mycroft was expecting a “Hello” and a hand squeeze. He was partially wrong on both accounts. The smaller man took on his whole appearance and walked to him with a strange smile on his own lips and confidence in his steps.

Lestrade put one arm around the taller one's waist and pulled him to his body.

“Hello, beautiful,” the man said huskily before taking him in a lip lock.

The kiss was hot and sensual and left Mycroft gapping for air and the chance to be able to think normally again. His body trembled and he decided that things would get terribly out of hand if he didn’t put some distance between them, urgently.

He tried to push the man a little, but the other didn’t release him. Instead, Gregory applied a little more pressure to keep their bodies together. Mycroft could feel the other’s hardness against his own.

“We’ve waited enough, Ginger Fox,” he said lowly while moving to bite softly at the side of his neck, making the older Holmes shiver with desire.

This was not going according to plan! They were supposed to have a quite dinner, to seduce each other slowly and then fall together in his bed. Not have sex in his living room the moment they met!

He tried to say the last part to the detective inspector, who was currently taking his jacket off and the attacking his waistcoat.

“ _Gregory!_ ” he exclaimed at last, his face reddened and his pupils dilated.

The silver haired man stopped at once and looked at him.

“You want to stop?” he asked frowning, but not going further in his assault. He wouldn't go against the other's wishes, even if it killed him.

“I… _I’ve made dinner_ …” the taller one replied, hating the way his voice sounded ragged and uncertain, while trying to free himself from the embrace and move them over to the dinning room so they could enjoy what he had prepared.

“ _You cooked?_ ” Lestrade asked in what sounded like awe.

Mycroft just nodded, not really daring to speak again until he was sure he would be able to control his tone.

“You really are a _marvelous man_ , Ginger Fox.” The police officer gave him a smile that made him feel strangely warmth inside and then kissed him on the lips once more, this time sweetly.

“Okay…” he said at last, freeing him reluctantly. “Let’s eat,” he said while looking at the older Holmes with his pupils dilated, his breath accelerated but trying very badly to subdue his desire so they could proceed according to _Mycroft's_ pace.

That simple thing, the willingness to actually comply with what he wanted, even if it was something the yarder didn’t was the thing that made the older Holmes change everything he had so carefully designed for them that night.

He went to the other man, put his hands around his neck and muttered against his mouth. “Bedroom is upstairs, first door on the left.”

That was all the man needed to hear, he picked up the lithe body of his partner and carried him to said location. The taller one had always liked his partners physically strong, able to take him in their arms and make him safe, even if for a little while. Gregory was just perfect in that regard, as he was proving to be in everything else.

“We’ll just taste what you made later, I promise, beautiful…” he whispered once more against Mycroft’s neck, now focused on licking and biting his skin.

Mycroft knew he should warn Gregory not to leave too visible a mark, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. Sherlock had given him a scarf on one occasion; he could use it if the love bite hadn’t disappeared by the time he had to leave for work.

His soon–to–be–lover deposited him on the bed a little more forcefully that he intended, if Gregory’s face was any indication. But when Mycroft smiled at him the other knew it was okay and proceed to take his own shirt off without any care for the material. Mycroft would swear he had seen a couple buttons fly somewhere in the room, and he was a Holmes, so he was pretty sure he could have told his staff where to recover them from.

Lestrade climbed on the bed, and mounted him, ready to make good on his earlier promises.

“Gregory…” he whispered, his brain sending him too much information at once. His body betraying his need and letting the other know how much he was desired.

The silver haired man kissed him again. It forced him to focus on the moment, on the other man’s slow, seductive movements instead of trying to analyze and predict all the things that were about to happen, that could go wrong. The chances that the other fulfilled his fantasies, the average time of the adult human male to reach completion according to different stimulus, his own response timing...

“ _Mycroft…_ ” The man called him softly, bringing him back from his mental reverie.

The smaller man looked bemused at him instead of angry.

“ _Please, Ginger Fox, stay with me… it’s lonely without you…_ ” he said softly and the older Holmes thought it was the most incredibly sexy thing anyone had told him… _ever_.

“I’ll try,” he promised, with every intention to comply since he didn’t want their first time to be ruined by his apparent inability to shut off his mind.

“Hush, its okay,” Gregory said, caressing his face with gentle fingers and easing his discomfort at once. “It can’t be easy for you to just turn it off. Let me try something…” he added with a daring voice and a naughty smile...

The taller man just nodded, not really knowing what to expect anymore. Up to that point the silver haired man was by far the most considerate man he had ever had on his mattress. Actually stopping in his ministration to call Mycroft back and make sure he would be able to enjoy their coupling and not merely sating himself with Mycroft’s body while he was inside of his head.

The detective inspector moved his hands to take the rest of his clothes off and Mycroft noted that while in his introspection the other had opened his vest and shirt, so it was an easy task to move them out of the way. A moment later, the yarder took his trousers and pants away with frantic movements.

His hard–on had begun to subdue a little, something that always happened when he became detached from any kind of sexual situation, rose again when the man put his hands around his prick and moved up and down, very slowly.

Mycroft looked at him with shining eyes, and then moved to hug Lestrade, to actually touch him. Hands moving from his silky hair to the muscled torso, and from there to the waist of his trousers. That wasn’t fair, he thought, he was completely naked for the man’s pleasure and Gregory was still hiding himself in his clothes. He turned them over so he was sitting in the other’s lap. The older man looked at him surprised at first and then lifted an eyebrow; never stopping the ministrations on his most sensitive part.

“I want to see you… devoid of your garments…” he stated, moving slowly away to open the other’s fly and take the offensive trousers away.

Gregory wasn’t certainly faking his interest, Mycroft noticed when the confronted with the evidence of the other’s arousal.

He licked his lips and looked at the man, whose breathing was rapid and heart seemed to be pounding at a very dangerous rate. He was so tempted to take Gregory into his mouth and taste his man, but he knew that it would be best to leave that for another time. Taking into account the man’s age and the refractory period he preferred to be taken at once and not having to wait for a second round to feel the man inside of him.

Slowly, letting his chest caress the other man’s exposed skin and pausing just a moment to kiss and tease his nipples and feel them harden against his mouth, he moved to Lestrade’s ear.

“I want you to fuck me, _now_ , Gregory,” he breathed, demandingly.

They say that turnabout is fair play and he deserved to know how and if his voice affected the silver haired man. The smaller one retaliated by turning them over and attacking Mycroft’s mouth hungrily, one hand moving to the other’s pink nipples to torture first one and then the other, taking revenge for his lover’s earlier teasing.

“Lube?” he asked while parting the older Holmes’ legs and looking around almost desperately.

Mycroft put his own hand under the pillow, retrieved the brand new tube and gave it to his lover.

“Anticipating this weren’t you, Ginger Fox?” Gregory questioned roughly, while opening the tube and coating his fingers with the substance.

“Always be prepared…” moaned the other at last, spreading his limbs further to make more room for the detective inspector.

The silver haired man finally pressed one finger against the puckered opening and played for a while, letting him relax and finally inserting a single finger.

The taller man arched his back at the sudden invasion, and clawed at his partner’s back. He had forgotten how intense it could be when he was actually there with the person taking him every step of the way.

He whimpered a little and tried to encourage the other man to go a little deeper, a little faster.

“Stop that or this will be over before it starts, beautiful. You are just _too perfect_ …” he said, while letting his finger slip inside and wiggled around until he located the spot that would make Mycroft cry out.

“ _So sweet_ , my ginger fox…”

The yarder kept on praising him as if he was a virgin on his first night. Telling him how good it felt, how much Gregory desired to take him…

The older Holmes felt like he was about to lose it, but then the man had taken his manhood and squeezed until it almost hurt, effectively putting a stop to his impending orgasm. It made him protest, almost slap the other's hand away. He wanted to demand Gregory let him come, but there was something in the darkened orbs of his partner that made him calm down.

“Hush, love…” Gregory murmured, while another finger joined the first. “I’ll let you come soon… but it’ll be with me inside of your hot body…”

That word, said so casually, made him tremble. Maybe the smaller man hadn’t even realized he had used it. But he did and it made him feel incredibly happy, even if his mind was fighting to go into overdrive and analyze it to death… But then Lestrade kissed his lips so softly and everything was put aside; he could deal with it all later. The panic, the realization, the happiness, the worry… It was obvious that this man had found a way to put his mind at ease, and that made him _unique_.

He yelled when the man touched his prostate.

“ _Stay. With. Me_ ,” the yarder said, punctuating each word with a stroke of his fingers at Mycroft’s pleasure spot, while the other hand kept the hold on his prick to prevent his release, and he knew that the silver haired man had noticed his little detour.

“So…rry,” Mycroft half whispered, half moaned.

Without a word another finger entered his body.

“Please, Gregory… _please!_ ” the older Holmes begged, moving his legs to each side of the other’s waist and wrapping around him, as if to force him to enter his body at last.

“Hope you’re ready… my ginger fox,” he finally acquiesced, being at the end of his rope, too.

And with those words, he joined them.

Mycroft wasn’t untouched, but he had never felt the tremors that ran through his body when the silver haired man finally penetrated him. He couldn’t think, his mind refusing to provide any kind of information, but focused solely on the way the man felt in his body. His whole being seemed to encompass the other’s movement.

The thrust were maddening, each one touching the place that made him feel the most delight. The speed was frenzied since they were too far gone to care anymore about finesse and slow buildup. There would be other chance to have soft, calm, sex.

He was finally allowed to come and it was too intense. He howled while nailing the man’s back, red, angry marks appearing on the skin. And with his orgasm, he triggered his lover’s.

They laid silently, one over the other, their breaths out of control and their hearts beating at a furious pace. Mycroft could feel the yarder still pulsing inside his body and he felt proud of being the one who had him. He couldn’t quite explain why he felt that way, it wasn’t a rational sensation. But this was not the time to have those, he finally understood.

Gregory looked at him softly and they kissed once more, this time slowly, enjoying the last of their lovemaking. For Mycroft it had been exactly that.

He closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them again, Lestrade was looking at him with a gentle smile on his face and laugh in his eyes.

“Sex makes you sleepy, I see,” his voice still sounded a little ragged.

The older Holmes felt himself blush at the words. He didn’t intended to fall sleep, but he had felt so relaxed that his eyelids had shut down on their own.

“I’m sorry, Gregory. I just…”

“Shhh… its okay. I’m proud of making you feel so good you disconnected for a couple of minutes...” he said. “Unless you had faked it…” the man finished clearly joking.

“You were best I’ve had so far, Gregory. I feel _compelled_ to keep you,” Mycroft said letting his voice sound teasing so as not to scare the other with the intensity of his resolution.

“ _Please do_ ,” the man said, his dark orbs showing how serious he really was.

The taller man studied him, the minimum detail being analyzed and stored in his mind. There was not a single trace of deception in the man. Yet it could very well be the sex endorphins talking...

“I _mean it_ , Mycroft,” the detective inspector said as if he could read his thoughts. “I _don’t do_ casual sex…”

“Me neither,” the older Holmes found himself confessing.

“Then, you’ll have to marry me, Ginger Fox… since we’ve already bedded one another,” Gregory said to him with a soft smile.

“You just divorced!” he reminded the man sternly.

“Isn’t that convenient? Since bigamy is still considered a crime in Britain,” he bantered back.

“I’ll think about it,” Mycroft said at last, pretending to meditate on the issue.

“Good,” the man said to him with a soft smile. “But don’t take too long or I’ll sick Sherlock on you.”

That was an unexpected threat and it made him wonder, once again, just how much his sibling had confided to the yarder.

“There’s not need to bring in my brother on this issue, Gregory,” the older Holmes said sourly.

“If you promise to _really_ think on it, I won’t,” Lestrade offered.

“Fine, I promise,” he said, letting the other know it was time for the matter to be dropped.

“Very well, now that it’s _settled_ , let’s go to sleep for real. Then we can go downstairs and have a go at the things you cooked,” the detective inspector said, wrapping an arm around Mycroft’s waist and making himself comfortable at the other man’s side, almost plastered to his body.

The older Holmes turned around and smiled, genuinely pleased that Gregory could seem, and make him feel, so comfortable about the whole thing. He caressed the other’s face with the tip of his fingers and closed his eyes.

He would definitely have to take a shower later. But for now he wanted to stay exactly where he was, enjoying the feeling of having found his heart.

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you are wondering what Mycroft intended for him and Gregory to have as an entrée:  
> http://www.taste.com.au/recipes/26311/prawn+cocktails+with+smoky+mayonnaise
> 
> Same disclaimer as in previous chapter also apply.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All recognizable characters belong to sir Arthur Conan Doyle and the contemporary incarnation to BBC network. The story, however, is mine and I'm just playing here.


End file.
